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So sad the lot of Babe unblest
That hath no home in heaven or earth,
But mourns in its cold winding sheet
About the place that gave it birth.
It may not reach to heaven above
It may not rest in earth below;
Nor with its lighted taper pierce
The limbo of its outcast woe.
The grey tide leaps upon the rocks,
The sea-mews rise and cross and wheel,
And ever as the darkness falls
The Babe weeps lonely in the Keeill.
And in its trailing winding sheet
Sobs o'er the broogh its piteous cry:—
"Oh, pity me! oh, pity me!
A Babe without a name am I!"
